双城记读后感英语版 100字左右 最好带翻译
这是我看完《双城记》后写的英文读后感，并作为英语周记发给了我的English teacher，现在拿出来share一下 A tragedy of the history Crazily,but truthfully,I finished reading the most part of the novel A Tale of Two Cities in just one day.Lost in the story,I felt like being together with the characters and experiencing the same exciting events.Soon it came to an end.To tell you my feelings,it's infinite sadness and a strong emotion that can drive me to cry. The story is set in London and Paris at the time of the great French Revolution.It shows the causes of revolution and its effects on people's day-to-day lives.Before the revolution,the King and the aristocracy treated their people cruelly in France.The common people were extremely poor and miserable.The crops in the fields were poor as if even the land shared the misery of the people.And there were so heavy taxes that all the villagers had nothing to hand over at last.On the other hand,the aristocracy made their will as the law by using money and gold.There were no justice,no equality and no fairness.Just as what happened to Dr Manette,he wrote to the Minister to show the crime what Marquis Evremonde had done,resulting in himself being arrested and sent to the prison Bastille without any reason. 希望能合你用吧，注意版权，谢绝抄袭^_^
求 life of pi的读后感\\\/观后感
要英文
急
自己写的最好
你好，中英版的，Life of Pi is an American 3D adventurous drama film directed by Ann Lee, a Taiwanese-born American film director. He wins the Academy Award for Best Director again for this film. He first won this awards for Brokeback Mountain and his another famous film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.是一部3D美国冒险电影，由著名的台湾导演执导，他凭借该电影再一次获得奥斯卡最佳导演的殊荣。
此前，他曾凭借收获。
他的另一部电影曾获得。
Life of Pi is adapted from a famous novel in the same name, written by Yann Martel. The storyline revolves around a 17-year old boy, Piscine Molitor'Pi' Patel’s adventurous journey on Pacific Ocean. He survives a shipwreck in which his family dies, and is stranded on a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. When Pi’s family move to Canada, the cargo ship sunk in the midway and his families died in the accident. In the first three days on the life boat, the surviving hyena killed the zebra and the orangutan, and then Richard Parker killed the hyena. Then, the story between Pi and the tiger began. Finally, Pi was rescued but Richard Parker leaved.改编自著名的同名 小说，小说主线描写了17岁少年派在太平洋上的冒险旅程。
在一次海难中，他的家人全部遇难，只有派幸存下来，与一只被困在救生艇上。
派的家人想移 民到加拿大开始新生活，但他们的货船却在途中沉没。
在救生艇上的最初三天，鬣狗咬死了斑马和猩猩，又杀死了鬣狗。
接着，少年派和理查德•帕克 之间的故事便开始了。
最后，派获救了，而则远远地消失了。
Audiences argue greatly heat about the ending of the film, and everyone wants to the truly ending but Ann Lee doesn’t give a clear answer but says he leaves the ending to audiences. Life of Pi became a critical and commercial success, earning over 583 million dollars worldwide. At the 85th Academy Awards, it wins four awards from eleven nominations, including Best Director.关于电影的结尾，观众的争论很激烈，每个人都想知 道真正的结局是什么，但导演却含糊其辞，只说把结局留给观众。
在争论中，获得了巨大成功，在全球范围内获得5.83亿美元的票 房。
在第85届奥斯卡颁奖礼上，《少年派的奇幻漂流》获得了包括最佳导演在内的四项大奖。
希望能帮到你。
英文翻译一段读后感。
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不要翻译器。
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可加分。
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谢谢大家了。
Readers may feel that My Life, at 957 pages, is longer than necessary. Careful revision could have reduced it by at least one-third without lessening its impact. Having said this, nevertheless, one must admit that overall the information Bill Clinton provides his readers with such honesty and self-analysis places this book among the valuable historical documents of the twentieth century.The intermingling of Clinton’s personal life—his relationship with his wife and daughter and with the various other women in his life—with his professional life necessarily colors much of his account. When Hillary Clinton, in her husband’s defense, spoke of a right-wing conspiracy designed to destroy him, many conservatives and some moderates castigated her. Her charges, however, were accurate.A major player in this neoconservative conspiracy was Ken Starr, who forced Clinton’s trial for impeachment over the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Clinton shows little malice toward the people he writes about here, but he obviously believes that a special circle of the underworld should be reserved for Ken Starr, who used any tactics he could to discredit the President. Clinton shows how Starr’s attacks on him diverted him from pressing duties of his office. Clinton also demonstrates the duplicity of such people as Newt Gingrich, who, while he appeared supportive, was undercutting Clinton mercilessly.Overall, My Life makes a significant contribution to literature that focuses on a presidential career played out in uniquely complex and dangerous times. This memoir is warm, more personal than any past presidential memoir, and worthy of close reading and consideration.
life of ma parker 读后感
When the literary gentleman, whose flat old Ma Parker cleaned every Tuesday, opened the door to her that morning, he asked after her grandson. Ma Parker stood on the doormat inside the dark little hall, and she stretched out her hand to help her gentleman shut the door before she replied. We buried 'im yesterday, sir, she said quietly.Oh, dear me! I'm sorry to hear that, said the literary gentleman in a shocked tone. He was in the middle of his breakfast. He wore a very shabby dressing-gown and carried a crumpled newspaper in one hand. But he felt awkward. He could hardly go back to the warm sitting-room without saying something--something more. Then because these people set such store by funerals he said kindly, I hope the funeral went off all right.Beg parding, sir? said old Ma Parker huskily.Poor old bird! She did look dashed. I hope the funeral was a--a-- success, said he. Ma Parker gave no answer. She bent her head and hobbled off to the kitchen, clasping the old fish bag that held her cleaning things and an apron and a pair of felt shoes. The literary gentleman raised his eyebrows and went back to his breakfast.Overcome, I suppose, he said aloud, helping himself to the marmalade.Ma Parker drew the two jetty spears out of her toque and hung it behind the door. She unhooked her worn jacket and hung that up too. Then she tied her apron and sat down to take off her boots. To take off her boots or to put them on was an agony to her, but it had been an agony for years. In fact, she was so accustomed to the pain that her face was drawn and screwed up ready for the twinge before she'd so much as untied the laces. That over, she sat back with a sigh and softly rubbed her knees...Gran! Gran! Her little grandson stood on her lap in his button boots. He'd just come in from playing in the street.Look what a state you've made your gran's skirt into--you wicked boy!But he put his arms round her neck and rubbed his cheek against hers.Gran, gi' us a penny! he coaxed.Be off with you; Gran ain't got no pennies.Yes, you 'ave.No, I ain't.Yes, you 'ave. Gi' us one!Already she was feeling for the old, squashed, black leather purse.Well, what'll you give your gran?He gave a shy little laugh and pressed closer. She felt his eyelid quivering against her cheek. I ain't got nothing, he murmured...The old woman sprang up, seized the iron kettle off the gas stove and took it over to the sink. The noise of the water drumming in the kettle deadened her pain, it seemed. She filled the pail, too, and the washing-up bowl.It would take a whole book to describe the state of that kitchen. During the week the literary gentleman did for himself. That is to say, he emptied the tea leaves now and again into a jam jar set aside for that purpose, and if he ran out of clean forks he wiped over one or two on the roller towel. Otherwise, as he explained to his friends, his system was quite simple, and he couldn't understand why people made all this fuss about housekeeping.You simply dirty everything you've got, get a hag in once a week to clean up, and the thing's done.The result looked like a gigantic dustbin. Even the floor was littered with toast crusts, envelopes, cigarette ends. But Ma Parker bore him no grudge. She pitied the poor young gentleman for having no one to look after him. Out of the smudgy little window you could see an immense expanse of sad-looking sky, and whenever there were clouds they looked very worn, old clouds, frayed at the edges, with holes in them, or dark stains like tea.While the water was heating, Ma Parker began sweeping the floor. Yes, she thought, as the broom knocked, what with one thing and another I've had my share. I've had a hard life.Even the neighbours said that of her. Many a time, hobbling home with her fish bag she heard them, waiting at the corner, or leaning over the area railings, say among themselves, She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker. And it was so true she wasn't in the least proud of it. It was just as if you were to say she lived in the basement-back at Number 27. A hard life!...At sixteen she'd left Stratford and come up to London as kitching-maid. Yes, she was born in Stratford-on-Avon. Shakespeare, sir? No, people were always arsking her about him. But she'd never heard his name until she saw it on the theatres.Nothing remained of Stratford except that sitting in the fire-place of a evening you could see the stars through the chimley, and Mother always 'ad 'er side of bacon, 'anging from the ceiling. And there was something- -a bush, there was--at the front door, that smelt ever so nice. But the bush was very vague. She'd only remembered it once or twice in the hospital, when she'd been taken bad.That was a dreadful place--her first place. She was never allowed out. She never went upstairs except for prayers morning and evening. It was a fair cellar. And the cook was a cruel woman. She used to snatch away her letters from home before she'd read them, and throw them in the range because they made her dreamy...And the beedles! Would you believe it?-- until she came to London she'd never seen a black beedle. Here Ma always gave a little laugh, as though--not to have seen a black beedle! Well! It was as if to say you'd never seen your own feet.When that family was sold up she went as help to a doctor's house, and after two years there, on the run from morning till night, she married her husband. He was a baker.A baker, Mrs. Parker! the literary gentleman would say. For occasionally he laid aside his tomes and lent an ear, at least, to this product called Life. It must be rather nice to be married to a baker!Mrs. Parker didn't look so sure.Such a clean trade, said the gentleman.Mrs. Parker didn't look convinced.And didn't you like handing the new loaves to the customers?Well, sir, said Mrs. Parker, I wasn't in the shop above a great deal. We had thirteen little ones and buried seven of them. If it wasn't the 'ospital it was the infirmary, you might say!You might, indeed, Mrs. Parker! said the gentleman, shuddering, and taking up his pen again.Yes, seven had gone, and while the six were still small her husband was taken ill with consumption. It was flour on the lungs, the doctor told her at the time...Her husband sat up in bed with his shirt pulled over his head, and the doctor's finger drew a circle on his back.Now, if we were to cut him open here, Mrs. Parker, said the doctor, you'd find his lungs chock-a-block with white powder. Breathe, my good fellow! And Mrs. Parker never knew for certain whether she saw or whether she fancied she saw a great fan of white dust come out of her poor dead husband's lips...But the struggle she'd had to bring up those six little children and keep herself to herself. Terrible it had been! Then, just when they were old enough to go to school her husband's sister came to stop with them to help things along, and she hadn't been there more than two months when she fell down a flight of steps and hurt her spine. And for five years Ma Parker had another baby--and such a one for crying!--to look after. Then young Maudie went wrong and took her sister Alice with her; the two boys emigrimated, and young Jim went to India with the army, and Ethel, the youngest, married a good-for-nothing little waiter who died of ulcers the year little Lennie was born. And now little Lennie--my grandson...The piles of dirty cups, dirty dishes, were washed and dried. The ink- black knives were cleaned with a piece of potato and finished off with a piece of cork. The table was scrubbed, and the dresser and the sink that had sardine tails swimming in it...He'd never been a strong child--never from the first. He'd been one of those fair babies that everybody took for a girl. Silvery fair curls he had, blue eyes, and a little freckle like a diamond on one side of his nose. The trouble she and Ethel had had to rear that child! The things out of the newspapers they tried him with! Every Sunday morning Ethel would read aloud while Ma Parker did her washing.Dear Sir,--Just a line to let you know my little Myrtil was laid out for dead...After four bottils...gained 8 lbs. in 9 weeks, and is still putting it on.And then the egg-cup of ink would come off the dresser and the letter would be written, and Ma would buy a postal order on her way to work next morning. But it was no use. Nothing made little Lennie put it on. Taking him to the cemetery, even, never gave him a colour; a nice shake-up in the bus never improved his appetite.But he was gran's boy from the first...Whose boy are you? said old Ma Parker, straightening up from the stove and going over to the smudgy window. And a little voice, so warm, so close, it half stifled her--it seemed to be in her breast under her heart-- laughed out, and said, I'm gran's boy!At that moment there was a sound of steps, and the literary gentleman appeared, dressed for walking.Oh, Mrs. Parker, I'm going out.Very good, sir.And you'll find your half-crown in the tray of the inkstand.Thank you, sir.Oh, by the way, Mrs. Parker, said the literary gentleman quickly, you didn't throw away any cocoa last time you were here--did you?No, sir. Very strange. I could have sworn I left a teaspoonful of cocoa in the tin. He broke off. He said softly and firmly, You'll always tell me when you throw things away--won't you, Mrs. Parker? And he walked off very well pleased with himself, convinced, in fact, he'd shown Mrs. Parker that under his apparent carelessness he was as vigilant as a woman.The door banged. She took her brushes and cloths into the bedroom. But when she began to make the bed, smoothing, tucking, patting, the thought of little Lennie was unbearable. Why did he have to suffer so? That's what she couldn't understand. Why should a little angel child have to arsk for his breath and fight for it? There was no sense in making a child suffer like that....From Lennie's little box of a chest there came a sound as though something was boiling. There was a great lump of something bubbling in his chest that he couldn't get rid of. When he coughed the sweat sprang out on his head; his eyes bulged, his hands waved, and the great lump bubbled as a potato knocks in a saucepan. But what was more awful than all was when he didn't cough he sat against the pillow and never spoke or answered, or even made as if he heard. Only he looked offended.It's not your poor old gran's doing it, my lovey, said old Ma Parker, patting back the damp hair from his little scarlet ears. But Lennie moved his head and edged away. Dreadfully offended with her he looked--and solemn. He bent his head and looked at her sideways as though he couldn't have believed it of his gran.But at the last...Ma Parker threw the counterpane over the bed. No, she simply couldn't think about it. It was too much--she'd had too much in her life to bear. She'd borne it up till now, she'd kept herself to herself, and never once had she been seen to cry. Never by a living soul. Not even her own children had seen Ma break down. She'd kept a proud face always. But now! Lennie gone--what had she? She had nothing. He was all she'd got from life, and now he was took too. Why must it all have happened to me? she wondered. What have I done? said old Ma Parker. What have I done?As she said those words she suddenly let fall her brush. She found herself in the kitchen. Her misery was so terrible that she pinned on her hat, put on her jacket and walked out of the flat like a person in a dream. She did not know what she was doing. She was like a person so dazed by the horror of what has happened that he walks away--anywhere, as though by walking away he could escape...It was cold in the street. There was a wind like ice. People went flitting by, very fast; the men walked like scissors; the women trod like cats. And nobody knew--nobody cared. Even if she broke down, if at last, after all these years, she were to cry, she'd find herself in the lock-up as like as not.But at the thought of crying it was as though little Lennie leapt in his gran's arms. Ah, that's what she wants to do, my dove. Gran wants to cry. If she could only cry now, cry for a long time, over everything, beginning with her first place and the cruel cook, going on to the doctor's, and then the seven little ones, death of her husband, the children's leaving her, and all the years of misery that led up to Lennie. But to have a proper cry over all these things would take a long time. All the same, the time for it had come. She must do it. She couldn't put it off any longer; she couldn't wait any more...Where could she go?She's had a hard life, has Ma Parker. Yes, a hard life, indeed! Her chin began to tremble; there was no time to lose. But where? Where?She couldn't go home; Ethel was there. It would frighten Ethel out of her life. She couldn't sit on a bench anywhere; people would come arsking her questions. She couldn't possibly go back to the gentleman's flat; she had no right to cry in strangers' houses. If she sat on some steps a policeman would speak to her.Oh, wasn't there anywhere where she could hide and keep herself to herself and stay as long as she liked, not disturbing anybody, and nobody worrying her? Wasn't there anywhere in the world where she could have her cry out-- at last?Ma Parker stood, looking up and down. The icy wind blew out her apron into a balloon. And now it began to rain. There was nowhere.
写一篇七十字左右愚公移山的读后感英语作文带翻译
Give more than you take -it will always come back to you.
